“They sure did, Jim. He’s been the difference these last two games, no one can deny it. He has shut the Philly’s team down in extraordinary fashion. I think this is the best baseball we’ve seen him play, and that’s saying a lot for a man who’s pitched a perfect game. But he’s been perfect here as well.”
The room bursts into cheers and Casey’s father suspiciously wipes his cheek.
“The team never said why he missed those three games, but it must have been important.”
Mrs. Tucker looks at me quickly then turns away.
“Well, he’s here now, and if the Jets can hold the lead until he gets on the mound, I think they can go all the way.”
“Yes!” shouts Anthony and some of his popcorn falls onto his lap. He quickly gathers the tossed pieces and throws them into his mouth, hiding all the evidence.
Jane squeezes my hand on the couch, and we both smile as the first batter comes up to the plate.
It seems surreal watching Casey Tucker play in the World Series in his very own living room. I don’t think I ever dared to dream of it.
A little after the third inning, Anthony turns around. “Grandma, can I get some water?”
Mrs. Tucker pushes herself off the couch, but I stop her. “Please let me. I should move, otherwise I’ll go crazy just sitting here.”
She smiles. “There are bottles in the fridge. Help yourself to anything you might like as well.”
“I will, thanks.”
I wasn’t lying. I have to move my body and release some of the tension in my shoulders. The game is tied and the starting pitcher’s fast ball has been slowing down. It looks like they’re probably going to go to their bullpen earlier than usual. I wonder if that means they will have to use Casey more, too. Could his arm handle all the throwing he’s done these last two games? He hasn’t pitched three games in a row in months at least.
“I’m surprised you’re here.” Mrs. Tucker’s voice startles me, and I nearly drop the two water bottles in my hands.
“Oh. I… uh … Jane said you invited me.”
She smiles. “That’s not what I meant. I thought he would have flown you to California to watch the game with Austin. Anthony has a fear of flying, but I didn’t peg you as the scared type.”
“I’m not. Doctors recommended I don’t put a lot of pressure on my brain for the next little while, so flying was out.”
“I thought you don’t listen to doctors. At least that’s what you told Casey.”
Her voice is calm and her face gives nothing away. I tread carefully, yet honestly. “I think it’s important to listen to doctors, just as it’s important to get a second opinion. I had three doctors tell me the same thing. So, no, I don’t make it a habit of defying doctors’ orders.”
She walks up to me and raises her hand. The move is slow, so I don’t flinch, but when she tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, I nearly lose my balance.
“I’m glad you didn’t listen and convinced Casey to see another doctor. Thank you, Sage. You brought my son back.” Her voice wavers this time and her eyes water. But she quickly clears her throat and grabs a couple of wine glasses. “Chardonnay?”
“I’d love some.”
She smiles. “I’ll bring them right out.”
When I return to the living room, there’s a crack of the bat from the television, and then everyone is jumping up and down. “Homerun!” shouts Charlie. “It’s a homerun.”
“That ball is gone,” confirms the announcer.
“Oh wow, the Jets are in the lead. But I don’t think Castillo can do another inning.”
“I don’t think so, either,” I say and thank Mrs. Tucker when she hands me a glass of wine. “Are they bringing out Casey?”
The manager signals the dugout, and we know who he’s asking for. It’s the ninth inning of Game 7 of the World Series, and Casey hasn’t let them down yet.
“Oh, God, I don’t think I can watch,” says his mother.
“It’s just a game, sweetheart. He’ll be fine.”
